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X-COM (updated M-W-F)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Innocent Bystander
First Post
And that's what meat sheilds are for.
Glad to have some of the players posting. Looking forward to reading player perspectives on LB's posts.
Glad to have some of the players posting. Looking forward to reading player perspectives on LB's posts.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Yeah, we not only had great RP in-game, but the group was also very active in between-game forum posts. A lot of the character development came off of how the player characters interacted with each other, as well as how they responded to the events within the campaign.
* * * * *
Aftermath (July 8, 2008)
Joan Beauvais looked up as she heard a quiet rapping on her door. “Please come in.”
The door opened, and Jane entered. She moved awkwardly, the body cast wrapped around her torso obvious under her jacket. Her right arm was bound tightly against her side by an elastic cord, and her face, while looking better than it had when they’d first brought her in on a stretcher from the crash site, was still a mottled landscape of swollen blues and blacks.
“Sit down, Jane.”
Joan saw how even the simple movement to the chair caused a twinge of pain in the other woman, however she tried to hide it. “How are you, Dr. Beauvois?”
“Well, thank you. How are you, Jane?”
After a pause, Jane replied, “To be honest, I’m not sure. I’ve not heard from my brother’s family in a week since they were moved; I nearly crashed the ship we were on, on the last mission; we just uncovered a traitor in our midst and to be honest I suspected him all along, but for the wrong reasons, so I didn’t want to speak up, because they were unfounded. So where do you want to start?”
The counselor asked, “So let me guess, ‘The butler did it?’ scenario, so you didn’t speak up?”
Jane smiled, “Exactly. Somehow his name came up right next to Sandesh on the suspect list and Sandesh was out, so he was next on the list. It was like jumping to conclusions without anything to base it on. I kept shaking off the feeling; but, it kept coming back to him. I’d hate to persecute a man based on nothing. Now the point is moot. It’s like the feeling I had with the Riverside Elementary School. I somehow knew the aliens were there to take the children to metamorph them into more of their hybrids; but I simply could not say the words to my teammates or the medical staff back here. It was not until later when faced with the awful truth of the matter that I said anything. My indecision may be setting matters back.”
The counselor corrected her, “Or it may be exercising self-control from going on wild-goose chases too. You can’t be second guessing yourself all the time, Jane. It will lead to bad mistakes in the field and here.”
“I suppose you’re right, Dr. Beauvois.”
The counselor added, “Learn to trust yourself; but, also learn to trust your caution, so you don’t make worse mistakes.”
“You’re right, of course. I suppose I should stop kicking myself too. I’m working with Buzz on the control layouts for those alien ships. Not like I’m expected to know how to fly an out-of-control alien ship on my first try.” She grinned mischievously, “I’ll see if I can do better next time.”
Joan didn’t say anything. After a few moments, Jane paused and sighed. “I hope I hear from my family soon.”
I’m sure they’ll contact you when it’s safe and they are settled.”
Jane asked, “Have you heard anything?”
“No, but, if I do, I’ll let you know. I promise.”
“Thank you, Dr. Beauvois. See you next week?”
“Yes. And remember, light duty until that cast comes off.”
Jane got to her feet, and again Joan could see the effort it cost her. “Don’t worry. I don’t think I’ll be running any marathons any time soon.”
Joan nodded, and Jane left. As the door closed behind her, a male voice sounded from the hidden speaker behind the desk. “Is she going to crack?”
“They’ve all had a tough time of it, Garret,” Joan replied. “This last mission… they nearly died, all of them, when that ship crashed. In fact, Grace says that if they had not hit the farmhouse, and had it there to partially absorb the impact, it is almost certain that none of them would have gotten out alive. Traumas like that take time to heal.”
“They are responding to the medical therapies. Stan says the team will be at full strength in a few days.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
There was a pause. “We don’t have a lot of options, Joan. Every attack that gets through undermines support of our operation from our consortium members. We need successes, not failures.”
“They’re not machines, Director. They’re people. Incredible people, but people nevertheless.”
“If we fail, a lot more than X-COM will lose out, doctor. I will expect your reports on the team by tomorrow morning.”
There was only a slight click to indicate that she was now alone—if she ever truly was in this place, Joan mused. Was someone watching her the way that she was watching Alpha Team, evaluating, writing reports on her stability and effectiveness?
She allowed herself a full minute of quiet, then she sighed and reached for the next file in the stack on her desk.
* * * * *
Aftermath (July 8, 2008)
Joan Beauvais looked up as she heard a quiet rapping on her door. “Please come in.”
The door opened, and Jane entered. She moved awkwardly, the body cast wrapped around her torso obvious under her jacket. Her right arm was bound tightly against her side by an elastic cord, and her face, while looking better than it had when they’d first brought her in on a stretcher from the crash site, was still a mottled landscape of swollen blues and blacks.
“Sit down, Jane.”
Joan saw how even the simple movement to the chair caused a twinge of pain in the other woman, however she tried to hide it. “How are you, Dr. Beauvois?”
“Well, thank you. How are you, Jane?”
After a pause, Jane replied, “To be honest, I’m not sure. I’ve not heard from my brother’s family in a week since they were moved; I nearly crashed the ship we were on, on the last mission; we just uncovered a traitor in our midst and to be honest I suspected him all along, but for the wrong reasons, so I didn’t want to speak up, because they were unfounded. So where do you want to start?”
The counselor asked, “So let me guess, ‘The butler did it?’ scenario, so you didn’t speak up?”
Jane smiled, “Exactly. Somehow his name came up right next to Sandesh on the suspect list and Sandesh was out, so he was next on the list. It was like jumping to conclusions without anything to base it on. I kept shaking off the feeling; but, it kept coming back to him. I’d hate to persecute a man based on nothing. Now the point is moot. It’s like the feeling I had with the Riverside Elementary School. I somehow knew the aliens were there to take the children to metamorph them into more of their hybrids; but I simply could not say the words to my teammates or the medical staff back here. It was not until later when faced with the awful truth of the matter that I said anything. My indecision may be setting matters back.”
The counselor corrected her, “Or it may be exercising self-control from going on wild-goose chases too. You can’t be second guessing yourself all the time, Jane. It will lead to bad mistakes in the field and here.”
“I suppose you’re right, Dr. Beauvois.”
The counselor added, “Learn to trust yourself; but, also learn to trust your caution, so you don’t make worse mistakes.”
“You’re right, of course. I suppose I should stop kicking myself too. I’m working with Buzz on the control layouts for those alien ships. Not like I’m expected to know how to fly an out-of-control alien ship on my first try.” She grinned mischievously, “I’ll see if I can do better next time.”
Joan didn’t say anything. After a few moments, Jane paused and sighed. “I hope I hear from my family soon.”
I’m sure they’ll contact you when it’s safe and they are settled.”
Jane asked, “Have you heard anything?”
“No, but, if I do, I’ll let you know. I promise.”
“Thank you, Dr. Beauvois. See you next week?”
“Yes. And remember, light duty until that cast comes off.”
Jane got to her feet, and again Joan could see the effort it cost her. “Don’t worry. I don’t think I’ll be running any marathons any time soon.”
Joan nodded, and Jane left. As the door closed behind her, a male voice sounded from the hidden speaker behind the desk. “Is she going to crack?”
“They’ve all had a tough time of it, Garret,” Joan replied. “This last mission… they nearly died, all of them, when that ship crashed. In fact, Grace says that if they had not hit the farmhouse, and had it there to partially absorb the impact, it is almost certain that none of them would have gotten out alive. Traumas like that take time to heal.”
“They are responding to the medical therapies. Stan says the team will be at full strength in a few days.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
There was a pause. “We don’t have a lot of options, Joan. Every attack that gets through undermines support of our operation from our consortium members. We need successes, not failures.”
“They’re not machines, Director. They’re people. Incredible people, but people nevertheless.”
“If we fail, a lot more than X-COM will lose out, doctor. I will expect your reports on the team by tomorrow morning.”
There was only a slight click to indicate that she was now alone—if she ever truly was in this place, Joan mused. Was someone watching her the way that she was watching Alpha Team, evaluating, writing reports on her stability and effectiveness?
She allowed herself a full minute of quiet, then she sighed and reached for the next file in the stack on her desk.
Innocent Bystander
First Post
I have to say, the shrink visit posts really add a nice touch of realism of the game. One would think that being in that situation would be pretty damn stressfull. Great touch LB.
nwjavahead
First Post
Just pop'n in...
delurking to encourage!
djordje
delurking to encourage!
djordje
Lazybones
Adventurer
Gotta give the players credit, the idea for the psych interviews came from their forum posts.
And thanks for dropping in, djordje!
* * * * *
Interlude: Planning (July 8-9, 2008)
* * * * *
So far, it had been ten minutes of ham fritters, coffee and Antarctic adventure stories in the X-COM cafeteria. Vasily wasn't sure how anyone could talk about Antarctica for ten minutes without mentioning penguins once, but that was because they weren't actually talking about Antarctica; they were talking about Alyssa Sanders. Or, rather, Alyssa Sanders was talking about Alyssa Sanders. As he'd never been to Antarctica, there wasn't much else to do but make the occasional intrigued noise.
So when the little vibrating buzz sounded from the xPhone sitting there near his plate, he couldn't help but glance down and skim-read the contents.
"... so what I had to do is dig the ice shelter and make the walls with just this trowel I'd made from - are you listening?"
"Eh?" He looked up, and blinked a bit, coming back to Earth. "Oh. Sorry, is the email from Wagner."
That admission earned him a carefully-modulated look of disappointment. "And what Doctor Kimmy's got to say is more interesting, huh?"
"What? No, no. I just looking -"
"Give it here," Alyssa demanded, motioning for the xPhone. Her eyes flicked across the screen, and a minute or two of expert tapping produced a message.
She held the phone in front of his eyes. "There. That do?"
"Uh -"
"Good." He tentatively reached for the phone, but winced as she tapped the SEND button before handing it back, apparently unfazed. "By the way, you really need a more interesting user name than that. How about we go shoot something? I can tell you the rest of the story on the way."
In the privacy of his own head, he sighed a little. It wasn't exactly an ideal date. But as the only topics he could think of to talk about were murderous aliens, the possible double-dealing of the People's Republic of China and the worry that his own nation was involved somewhere—after all, hadn't they all signed the Treaty of Good-Neighbourliness and Friendly Co-operation?—maybe an hour or two of shooting some target dummies and listening to more survival adventures in freezing climes wasn't so bad.
"Sure. Okay." They got up, and Vasily slid the xPhone back into his pocket. What the other team members would make of that mail, he wasn't sure...
* * *
It had been a busy week. Thanks to good fortune and perhaps the improved suit of armor, Catalina had been the least damaged Alpha that the recovery team had finally managed to dig out of the wreckage of the alien ship. It was a miracle any of them were still alive; she’d overhead one of the medical techs saying that between the five of them they’d had thirty-seven broken bones. She herself had escaped with just a broken collarbone and some torn muscles, but Stan had set her up with an IV full of his miracle juice, which had put her back on her feet within twenty-four hours. With her fellow team members recovering from broken bones and internal injuries, she’d been left to her own devices.
She kept busy tying up the details on the matter of the leak. The aftermath of that affair had been oddly rewarding. The open gratitude of Hallorand and Garrett, both of whom had been relieved to have the matter closed so swiftly and with Doctor Okwelume still alive. The sincere, if somewhat saddened, congratulations of base staff, and the enthusiastic ones of some of her own team. But more than any of these, the obviously bitter taste if left in Drake's mouth as she was forced to acknowledge it.
But that was now done and over with, and sitting in the usual "feet up on table" position in the Recreation room, listening to the chatter of those around her, Catalina had to admit she was bored. There were other projects to work on, but what had seemed a fine way to occupy herself the week before now seemed just a little empty. She glanced down as the xPhone buzzed and pulled it out to look. A mischievous grin came across her face. It merely broadened as Vasily and Alyssa walked through the room on the way to the firing range. She wiggled the phone at him and her eyes danced. Well this should keep me occupied for a few minutes at least, she thought. With a smirk on her face, Catalina sat and composed a response to the resourcing email.
She pressed the send button with a flourish and while waiting for any potential response typed another.
No response to the first. Catalina glanced at the entrance to the barracks corridor with another grin. Maybe he'll want to give it in person.
She didn’t have to wait long for a reply to the second message; Grace was known for always being at work, and she was as likely to respond to an e-mail in the middle of the night as during the day.
Relieved to have something to do, Catalina grinned again and headed off toward the workshop.
Innocent Bystander
First Post
Sounds like Vas should have thrown the shooting competition. That way he wouldn't be bored on his date and Cat wouldn't be so bored because she'd be on one. In theory anyway.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Interlude: Leave (July 9-14, 2008)
Note: once again, these posts came from the players in the campaign, in response to the Garret e-mail below.
An unexpected message from Director Garret arrived in the xPhone inboxes of Alpha Team.
* * *
"Leave! Yes!" Catalina punches the air as she reads the email. "72 hours. That's 5 hours transfer, 12 hour flight, 3 hours in airport lounge, in both directions," she ticks off her fingers one bay one. "Damn, once I've done the obligatory visit to Mom and Dad that's only one evening."
"I need to spend some time in workshop three too." She snorted, "Sod it, who's for pairing up and hitting the nearest bar? Preferably someone who's handy with cards and can hold their own in a shots drinking contest." Slowly a grin formed. "How far are we from Vegas, exactly?"
* * *
Jim was reviewing the last five sets of alien autopsy results when the buzzer in the medical lab went off. The error tolerances on the med-kit chloroplasm transducer had been exceeded again. He'd have to get one of the techs to fix this. He groaned. He still hadn't reviewed the research and manufacturing proposals floated by the various alpha team members. "Too freakin' much to do. I had more free time back when I worked the ER."
Jim sent off an email to two of the techs about the tolerances, and went back to the autopsy reports. If he didn't have time to weigh in on the manufacturing and research priorities, it wasn't the end of the world, the others in the group seemed to be making pretty good decisions.
* * *
No-one else had seemed in a hurry to take their leave off the base, and as he— like the British woman, apparently—had no-one to visit within a realistic distance, it made sense to take the same bus into the city while the rest of the team booked flights and made hopeful travel plans. It was still close to the base, should trouble break out; and being a tourist city, Vasily had originally assumed there would be no problems finding a place to stay. A country as tense as this one, he thought, was probably one that was staying at home. Even if the threat they were facing was nameless and not generally known, there was enough fear in the air for everyone to feel the urge to keep their heads down.
In that, he couldn't have been more wrong. The streets of Vegas by day were eerily silent, but the hotels and casinos of the place were mostly full. As those with families huddled in their houses, taking no chances, the desperate, the despairing, and the fatalistic had flocked to Vegas, gambling their way through the crisis. To someone who knew what was going on, it all seemed a little sad, a little bleak. The sight of it all cast Doctor Okwelume's reported idealism—that alien invasion could imbue humanity with a sense of purpose—into stark relief.
Was it just the way the human race dealt with fear and worry, to push it aside? Could it be that when the chips were down and things fell apart, was the only rule Every Man For Himself? After so many wars, many of them global, was cynicism the order of the day now that the future of the human race as a whole might truthfully be at stake? Or was the age of information-technology and the power of world media settling the weight of guilt so heavily onto people's consciences that the mere thought of conflict wearied them?
He didn't know; but thoughts like that wearied him, he knew that. And they weren't worth sharing, at least not on a time of brief holiday. Besides, he would have been surprised if there was anyone in Alpha Team who hadn't had the same thoughts at some point. He brought his mind back to the first three things on the agenda; getting enough loose change together to make a call to the Russian Embassy in Washington, and...
"Keep eye out for Russian restaurant," he asked his travelling companion, as their bus ambled down Route 93. "And hat shop. I promise bring back a Vegas baseball cap for someone."
* * *
"Look, what do you want? This rat hole, which is worse than the barracks, and only has one bed, or a big room with a comfy sofa if not two beds, and space so we won't have to sit on one another's laps?" The atmosphere of anxiety in the city had taken Catalina by surprise. She wasn't sure why she hadn't expected it. but she hadn't. One of her earliest memories was of the strange elation her parents had exhibited when a great big wall had been knocked down. It was much later before she connected the event, but even then she could only understand the relieved jubilation subjectively. Life in post-Germanic unification Britain didn't exactly fit you to anticipate how a population under threat could act.
Still, as was her nature, she intended to make the most of it. Spending two nights in the seedy motel, heavily influenced by the Psycho period and looking like it hadn't been renovated since then either, wasn't going to cut it. So Catalina suggested they con their way into the Honeymoon suite of one of the larger hotels. Vasily hadn't liked the idea, so as they stood in the one dingy room they could find she gave it the hard sell. "I'll take the sofa if I can at least have a shower I don't have to share with a family of cockroaches."
It had perhaps been the unspecified rodent running along the curtain rail that convinced him, but Vasily agreed reluctantly. "Just stay quiet and leave it to me," Catalina told him.
The Russian stood silently in the lobby of the Luxor, while Catalina spoke to the frazzled-looking clerk at the front desk. "It's the throat cancer operation, you know. He really mustn't talk too much,” she said, radiating embarrassed tension, while she had the desk clerk triple check for a booking that had never existed. Tears started as she went on, "It's our honeymoon, you know, and the doctors..." The combination, coming from a young woman with innocent blue eyes in a pretty sundress paid off with a far too inexperienced clerk and a harassed manager. A luxurious, if rather kitsch, room was theirs.
After unpacking her few belongings, purchasing a cheap, pre-paid mobile, and making a long call to a pre-arranged unlisted number, they tried a restaurant serving Russian cuisine on the recommendation of the desk clerk. The food wasn't authentic enough for Vasily, but it was the waiters in full Cossack style dress that had the biggest impact on him. Particularly when the friendly waitress queried his accent and discovered his origins. This led to a series of vodka shots, downed in rapid succession, and hence to a contest conducted with three Stetson-wearing fellows in the Luxor bar, both sporting baseball caps and "I Love Vegas!" t-shirts they had acquired somewhere along the way.
Afterwards neither were quite clear how, in their drunken stumbling and meandering, while singing a Russian folk song, they managed to make it back to the room. It was a very bleary-eyed Catalina who opened her eyes early the next afternoon, stared up at the ceiling from a position upside down on an armchair with her legs hooked over the seat back, and uttered the traditional litany. "Oh bugger, what did we do last night?"
* * *
[Note: Jane’s backstory involved the death of her husband Samuel and a threat to her brother Mark from a smuggling syndicate.]
Mark, Rebecca, and Samantha were settling into their new home in the new WITSEC town with double duty protection by a few X-COM agents lurking in the wings cooperating through FBI sources.
Once Vasily and Catalina staggered back into the base, looking somewhat the worse for wear for their trip, Jane used her 72 hour leave to visit them and they finally saw Shrek 4 and the latest Narnia movie as family. They all had a good time together.
There was an understood tension underneath it all, that something was going on that Jane couldn't talk about that was related to the recent attack on the family. They were all just glad to be alive and together for the short time that Jane had the 72 hour leave. The family knew to follow the WITSEC agents rules and the added security precautions that were in place on top of that.
The rest of the leave was a lot of fun for the four of them, with stories of Samantha's exploits, and reminiscing about Mark and Jane as kids, to Mark and Rebecca when they first met. A brief reference of Samuel brought a few tears to everyone's eyes; but otherwise the topics were generally all very light and he rest of the 72 hours were all very pleasant until it was time for a Jane to go back. They told her to be careful with whatever it was that she was doing and to keep her head down; but, that they were proud of her no matter what.
Jane returned to base with a smile on her face and a pair of CDs of the soundtracks from Shrek 4 and Narnia that she picked up from a local store that her brother had gotten her as gifts.
Note: once again, these posts came from the players in the campaign, in response to the Garret e-mail below.
An unexpected message from Director Garret arrived in the xPhone inboxes of Alpha Team.
* * *
"Leave! Yes!" Catalina punches the air as she reads the email. "72 hours. That's 5 hours transfer, 12 hour flight, 3 hours in airport lounge, in both directions," she ticks off her fingers one bay one. "Damn, once I've done the obligatory visit to Mom and Dad that's only one evening."
"I need to spend some time in workshop three too." She snorted, "Sod it, who's for pairing up and hitting the nearest bar? Preferably someone who's handy with cards and can hold their own in a shots drinking contest." Slowly a grin formed. "How far are we from Vegas, exactly?"
* * *
Jim was reviewing the last five sets of alien autopsy results when the buzzer in the medical lab went off. The error tolerances on the med-kit chloroplasm transducer had been exceeded again. He'd have to get one of the techs to fix this. He groaned. He still hadn't reviewed the research and manufacturing proposals floated by the various alpha team members. "Too freakin' much to do. I had more free time back when I worked the ER."
Jim sent off an email to two of the techs about the tolerances, and went back to the autopsy reports. If he didn't have time to weigh in on the manufacturing and research priorities, it wasn't the end of the world, the others in the group seemed to be making pretty good decisions.
* * *
No-one else had seemed in a hurry to take their leave off the base, and as he— like the British woman, apparently—had no-one to visit within a realistic distance, it made sense to take the same bus into the city while the rest of the team booked flights and made hopeful travel plans. It was still close to the base, should trouble break out; and being a tourist city, Vasily had originally assumed there would be no problems finding a place to stay. A country as tense as this one, he thought, was probably one that was staying at home. Even if the threat they were facing was nameless and not generally known, there was enough fear in the air for everyone to feel the urge to keep their heads down.
In that, he couldn't have been more wrong. The streets of Vegas by day were eerily silent, but the hotels and casinos of the place were mostly full. As those with families huddled in their houses, taking no chances, the desperate, the despairing, and the fatalistic had flocked to Vegas, gambling their way through the crisis. To someone who knew what was going on, it all seemed a little sad, a little bleak. The sight of it all cast Doctor Okwelume's reported idealism—that alien invasion could imbue humanity with a sense of purpose—into stark relief.
Was it just the way the human race dealt with fear and worry, to push it aside? Could it be that when the chips were down and things fell apart, was the only rule Every Man For Himself? After so many wars, many of them global, was cynicism the order of the day now that the future of the human race as a whole might truthfully be at stake? Or was the age of information-technology and the power of world media settling the weight of guilt so heavily onto people's consciences that the mere thought of conflict wearied them?
He didn't know; but thoughts like that wearied him, he knew that. And they weren't worth sharing, at least not on a time of brief holiday. Besides, he would have been surprised if there was anyone in Alpha Team who hadn't had the same thoughts at some point. He brought his mind back to the first three things on the agenda; getting enough loose change together to make a call to the Russian Embassy in Washington, and...
"Keep eye out for Russian restaurant," he asked his travelling companion, as their bus ambled down Route 93. "And hat shop. I promise bring back a Vegas baseball cap for someone."
* * *
"Look, what do you want? This rat hole, which is worse than the barracks, and only has one bed, or a big room with a comfy sofa if not two beds, and space so we won't have to sit on one another's laps?" The atmosphere of anxiety in the city had taken Catalina by surprise. She wasn't sure why she hadn't expected it. but she hadn't. One of her earliest memories was of the strange elation her parents had exhibited when a great big wall had been knocked down. It was much later before she connected the event, but even then she could only understand the relieved jubilation subjectively. Life in post-Germanic unification Britain didn't exactly fit you to anticipate how a population under threat could act.
Still, as was her nature, she intended to make the most of it. Spending two nights in the seedy motel, heavily influenced by the Psycho period and looking like it hadn't been renovated since then either, wasn't going to cut it. So Catalina suggested they con their way into the Honeymoon suite of one of the larger hotels. Vasily hadn't liked the idea, so as they stood in the one dingy room they could find she gave it the hard sell. "I'll take the sofa if I can at least have a shower I don't have to share with a family of cockroaches."
It had perhaps been the unspecified rodent running along the curtain rail that convinced him, but Vasily agreed reluctantly. "Just stay quiet and leave it to me," Catalina told him.
The Russian stood silently in the lobby of the Luxor, while Catalina spoke to the frazzled-looking clerk at the front desk. "It's the throat cancer operation, you know. He really mustn't talk too much,” she said, radiating embarrassed tension, while she had the desk clerk triple check for a booking that had never existed. Tears started as she went on, "It's our honeymoon, you know, and the doctors..." The combination, coming from a young woman with innocent blue eyes in a pretty sundress paid off with a far too inexperienced clerk and a harassed manager. A luxurious, if rather kitsch, room was theirs.
After unpacking her few belongings, purchasing a cheap, pre-paid mobile, and making a long call to a pre-arranged unlisted number, they tried a restaurant serving Russian cuisine on the recommendation of the desk clerk. The food wasn't authentic enough for Vasily, but it was the waiters in full Cossack style dress that had the biggest impact on him. Particularly when the friendly waitress queried his accent and discovered his origins. This led to a series of vodka shots, downed in rapid succession, and hence to a contest conducted with three Stetson-wearing fellows in the Luxor bar, both sporting baseball caps and "I Love Vegas!" t-shirts they had acquired somewhere along the way.
Afterwards neither were quite clear how, in their drunken stumbling and meandering, while singing a Russian folk song, they managed to make it back to the room. It was a very bleary-eyed Catalina who opened her eyes early the next afternoon, stared up at the ceiling from a position upside down on an armchair with her legs hooked over the seat back, and uttered the traditional litany. "Oh bugger, what did we do last night?"
* * *
[Note: Jane’s backstory involved the death of her husband Samuel and a threat to her brother Mark from a smuggling syndicate.]
Mark, Rebecca, and Samantha were settling into their new home in the new WITSEC town with double duty protection by a few X-COM agents lurking in the wings cooperating through FBI sources.
Once Vasily and Catalina staggered back into the base, looking somewhat the worse for wear for their trip, Jane used her 72 hour leave to visit them and they finally saw Shrek 4 and the latest Narnia movie as family. They all had a good time together.
There was an understood tension underneath it all, that something was going on that Jane couldn't talk about that was related to the recent attack on the family. They were all just glad to be alive and together for the short time that Jane had the 72 hour leave. The family knew to follow the WITSEC agents rules and the added security precautions that were in place on top of that.
The rest of the leave was a lot of fun for the four of them, with stories of Samantha's exploits, and reminiscing about Mark and Jane as kids, to Mark and Rebecca when they first met. A brief reference of Samuel brought a few tears to everyone's eyes; but otherwise the topics were generally all very light and he rest of the 72 hours were all very pleasant until it was time for a Jane to go back. They told her to be careful with whatever it was that she was doing and to keep her head down; but, that they were proud of her no matter what.
Jane returned to base with a smile on her face and a pair of CDs of the soundtracks from Shrek 4 and Narnia that she picked up from a local store that her brother had gotten her as gifts.
Richard Rawen
First Post
Nice! Will this be a classic lull before the storm?
Regardless the prose is good and backstory/development of characters is well done
Regardless the prose is good and backstory/development of characters is well done
Innocent Bystander
First Post
Early on in the original xcom games there was often a lull between storms. You'd go from wondering if you'd gotten the jump and put a serious dent in alien operations to curling up in a ball rocking back and forth muttering incoherently about all the sudden activity you had to deal with. Sounds like this might have been a campaign equivalent. It does beg the question though...what did Vas and Cat do that they don't remember?
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